


If Tomorrow Never Comes

by MagmaMuffinz



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Romance, Anxiety, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Depression, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Multi, Self-Harm, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:04:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagmaMuffinz/pseuds/MagmaMuffinz
Summary: Hope was never a thing that Sloane Ashton Roth had a surplus of. It was expected for the world to end, therefore, she didn't hope for a brighter future. It was expected for a nuclear war to ensue. It was expected that almost the entirety of the human race would be killed in the aftermath. The only thing Sloane didn't expect? Her being frozen in an underground nuclear fallout shelter, being forced to watch as her mother was killed in front of her, and tearing across the Commonwealth in search of her kidnapped baby brother with her father and a few new friends in tow.





	1. It's the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> The main character of my story will be an original character that I have created. She is the daughter of Nate and Nora, and she is 19 years of age. There will be many mentions of suicidal thoughts, attempts, and self-harm within this story. I will always place a warning before every chapter that contains these topics, but if you are particularly sensitive to these types of subjects, please be aware of them within this story. Also, I am publishing this story on both my Tumblr and Quotev accounts, so if you see this story on either of those platforms, they are most likely me, and are not plagiarized.
> 
> NOW LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD.

“Pops, you know I love you, but it’s pretty damn hard to study for a test when your father’s repeating the same thing over and over again every waking moment of the day.” 

Nathan Roth’s emerald irises abruptly snapped to his daughter’s reflection leaning against the door frame in the mirror, and his eyes narrowed in irritation as he watched the sly grin gradually form upon her lips. Bright green gazes locked in an intense competition of determination, neither father nor daughter willing to back down.

Nora Roth looked on in bewildered amusement from her position next to the sink, her cerulean gaze flickering from her daughter, then to her husband, then back to her daughter once more. After several seconds of silence ensued, Nora’s gentle tone pervaded the silence as she sighed at her family’s stubbornness.

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead at the Veteran’s Hall tonight, hon.” Nora directed her gaze to her husband, watching as he huffed in annoyance. He pointed two of his fingers at his eyes before turning his wrist and stabbing them in his daughter’s direction, the corners of his lips turning upwards slightly as she giggled to herself.

“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean that I can’t kick your ass, Cricket.” Sloane cackled loudly as she made a dramatic show of slapping her knee, wiping a fake tear from the waterline of her eye. 

“Old man, I would take you down before you could even blink.” Sloane then proceeded to turn around and waltz down the hallway before entering her bedroom with a large smirk occupying her lips.

Nathan shook his head slightly before facing the mirror once again, raising a clenched fist to wipe away the steam that had formed upon the mirror. He took it upon himself to examine his features, smiling gently in amusement when he realized how much his daughter resembled him. Gel coated his brunette hair, holding it in pompadour that faded at the sides. The new style was recommended to him by his own daughter, as she stated that “it would help him get all the chicks,” while his wife was laughing silently to herself from her position on the couch.

The freckles that adorned his cheeks, nose, and chin were especially prominent at this time of the year, and the scar upon his cheekbone that he gained from his time within the Army was jagged as it was when the knife first pierced his skin. His heart dropped slightly, however, when he realized that the scar that he was gifted during times of combat was nothing compared the the scar that Sloane had acquired within the own confinements of her home.

And it was created by her own father, no less.

The man was getting lost in his own degrading thoughts when his wife wrapped his thin arms round his waist before resting her cheek against Nathan’s taut back.

“Wasn’t your fault.” Nora had mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, and once again, the gentle tone of his wife’s voice prevented him from entering a place of his mind that he did not want to enter.

Nate simply bobbed his head up and down, wanting to reassure Nora but not believing her claims. The audible sigh that escaped from her lips was an obvious sign that she quickly caught on to his intention, but she said nothing in response. 

Nathan met the intense gaze of his reflection, his dark eyebrows furrowing slightly when he realized just how tired he looked. The darkness that rested below his eyes had never truly left ever since he joined the Army. Deep ridges, lines, and textures had formed on the planes on his face as time marched on, and because of this, he appeared far more older than 37. 

The sigh that resounded from Nathan penetrated the silence that had settled within the bathroom, and Sloane’s heart shattered when she hear the almost inaudible response from her father. 

“Yes, it was.” Nathan had quietly murmured, his head hanging in shame as his wife ran her hand sympathetically along his spine. 

Sloane gradually stood from her position of leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, uncrossing her arms and running her nimble fingers through her brunette tresses. Several seconds passed before Sloane started back to her bedroom, sparing a lingering gaze at the doorway of the bathroom over her shoulder before entering her room and closing the door.

The soft padding of her footsteps against the cool tile of the floor was almost inaudible as she made her way to her vanity. The 19-year-old pulled the stool her mother had created from under the vanity, and she sat in still silence for almost five minutes as she studied each and every feature upon her face.

There was always a child-like glint in her sparkling emerald irises, and if you looked closely, you were be able to discern flecks of gold and deep blue sprouting from her pupils. Her thick eyelashes were coated in a single layer of mascara, and her darkened eyebrows were molded into a soft arch, courtesy of her mother. When she smiled, deep-set dimples would appear at the corners of her lips. The freckles that could be found on her father’s facial features were also prominent upon her, even more so. Her full lips were a light shade of pink, and though they were incredibly smooth to the touch, the cool weather was beginning to make them chapped. Due to her mother pampering her, even when she was only a baby, Sloane had incredibly soft skin, which had a sun-kissed complexion because of her tendency to spend dozens of hours out in the sun.

Sloane then let out a puff of air as she screwed her eyes shut. She had seen the marred skin of her scar many times. It was inevitable, the scar ran from the top of her left eyebrow, through the socket of her eye, and abruptly stopped on the plane of her left cheekbone. 

It never got any easier to look at.

The girl gradually opened her eyes once more, taking a few moments to recollect herself before she raised her gaze to her reflection. The sharp intake of breath was nothing new, as that occurred every time she saw the mangled skin, but it was never something she got accustomed to.

Sloane gingerly raised her hand to the jagged scar, placing the pads of her fingertips to the pink skin, and thoughts of disgust plagued her thoughts. Though the scar did nothing to disfigure her beauty, as she was credited as being one of the most beautiful women within Sanctuary Hills, Sloane thought she was truly disgusting. 

She was terrified of the possibility that everyone else who ever laid eyes on her would think the same thing.

“Hey, hon. Come on out. Codsworth made coffee.” The sudden appearance of her father made the girl jump slightly in shocked surprise, but she soon relaxed when her eyes landed on the wide grin displayed on his face.

It faltered slightly when he noticed what exactly she was looking at in her reflection.

“Alright, hopefully drinking it will make you calm down a bit. Don’t know if I can take your anymore of your rambling.” Sloane had joked, chuckling when her father punched her shoulder jokingly. Though Nathan acted as if he had already forgotten what he had saw, the tugging feeling at his heartstrings never faded and the feeling of guilt crawled its way up his throat.

The father and daughter duo exited Sloane’s room, pushing each other into the walls of the hallway as they traipsed to the living room. They were still horsing about when they arrived, and Nora rose from her position on the bar stool to physically separate the two, mumbling incoherently about her family being “too violent for their own good”.

“Good morning, Miss Sloane! Here’s your coffee, brewed to perfection! I wish you the happiest of birthdays!” Codsworth merrily chimed, and a grin formed upon Sloane’s lips at Codworth’s contagious joyfulness. 

“Thank you, Cods. Don’t work yourself too hard, ya hear?” Sloane threw an accusatory finger at Codsworth, shaking it slightly to further emphasize her seriousness. A sound that closely resembled a laugh resounded from the metal robot before he hovered down the hallway, the sounds of her baby brother’s cries resonating throughout the home.

“I know we were nervous at first, but I'm glad we got Codsworth.” The smile upon Nora’s lips could be heard in her tone of voice, and Sloane found herself agreeing immensely. Her thoughts drifted to the many nights where she awoke trembling and sobbing as a result of a nightmare, which had plagued her every night since her father left for the Army, and Codsworth aided in calming her down with comforting words and pats on the back with his claw-like appendage.

The sudden chime of the doorbell drug Sloane out of her own mind, and the girl’s eyes rolled when she spared a glance at the window of the front door and she distinguished the mousy figure of the salesman that, apparently, could not leave her father alone.

“It’s that salesman again. I don’t know why he keeps bothering you.” Nora huffed in annoyance, reaching the realization that this was, quite literally, the twelfth time the salesman had appeared at their doorstep in a mere week. 

“Must be my charming personality and good-looks that keep raring him in.” Nathan dramatically winked at his wife, a bark of a laugh escaping his throat when she simply shook her head at his antics.

Sloane’s father advanced to the front door, jokingly turning to the mirror adjacent to the door and swiftly running his fingers through his hair before turning back and placing his hand on the handle of the door. 

As soon as the handle was twisted and the door swung open, the timorous man stepped forward, tipping his hat in an act of respect to Nathan and greeting him in a practiced, exuberant manner.

“Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!” The man had exclaimed, placing the palms of his hands on the clipboard that had names and numbers haphazardly scrawled on it. 

“Vault-Tec? Remind me again.” Nathan had drawled, and it was clear to Sloane that he was attempting to keep the irritation that was boiling within him from revealing itself to the man. Though he was only doing his job, the absurd number of times the salesman had appeared at the front door was obviously antagonizing her father.

“Why we’re about you, sir! And helping secure your future. You see, Vault-Tec is the foremost builder of state-of-the-art underground fallout shelters.

“Vaults, if you will. Luxury accommodations, where you can wait out the horrors of nuclear devastation.” The man spoke about nuclear devastation nonchalantly, as if the fact that the world was soon going to end didn't bother him in the slightest.

“You can’t begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I’ve been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost emergency, I assure you.” The moment the word “emergency” appeared in the conservation, Sloane’s heart began to pound sporadically, and her eyes widened in stunned surprise. 

“What's so important?” Nathan asked, leaning a hand on the doorframe as he cocked a single eyebrow at the man, watching in slight amusement as he fiddled nervously with the collar of his coat and cleared his throat in a shameful manner.

“Why, nothing less than your entire future! If you hadn't noticed, sir, this country has gone to heck in a hand basket.

“If you'll excuse my language. The big kaboom is… it’s inevitable, I'm afraid. And coming sooner than you may think, if you catch my meaning.” Sloane looked on as fear began to bubble within her, but she began to get more frustrated than fearful. The girl was unconventionally efficient at reading people, as she was studying at a university to become a lawyer, and she knew that this overly-joyous man was hiding something much bigger than he was initially letting on.

“Now I know you’re a busy man, so I won’t take up much of your time. Time being a, um, precious commodity.” The man’s facade fell apart for a single second as he stuttered over his spiel, searching for the right words to reassure the family. However, as soon as the mask cracked, it was fixed once again, the man clearing his throat once more before continuing on.

“I'm here today to tell you that because of your service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111.” The man’s voice drifted into a star-struck tone as he lifted his hands to spread them in a fantastical gesture before lowering them back to his previous position on his clipboard. He grasped the pen that was being held to the clipboard by the metal clamp before returning his gaze to Sloane’s father.

“But there's room for my entire family, right?” Nathan asked with narrowed eyes, sparing a glance behind his shoulder and catching his daughter’s piercing gaze. The girl was leaning against the counter top, her arms crossed across her chest as she shrugged her shoulders slightly at her father. 

“Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally. In fact, you're already cleared for entrance. It's just a matter of verifying some information.” The salesman had stated, clearing his throat to get Nathan’s attention focused solely upon him.

“Don't want there to be any hold-ups in the unforeseen event of… ahem… total atomic annihilation. Won't take but a moment.” The man rose his pen slightly to Nathan, who was still facing his annoyed daughter, and it wasn't until the man coughed slightly in an awkward manner before Nathan turned.

Sloane’s father faced the man once again, watching him sharply and almost laughing at him squirming underneath his intense gaze. A nervous grin broke out upon the salesman’s lips, and several seconds passed before Nathan let out a breath of exasperated air.

“Sure. Let's do it.” Nathan sighed heavily before he reluctantly accepted the pen that was thrusted towards him, mumbling silently to himself as his eyes continued down the information passed.

A minute of tense silence followed until Nathan finished filling out the sheet, turning the clipboard back around and handing it back to the representative who graciously accepted it with a thank you. 

“Wonderful. That's everything. Just gonna walk this over to the Vault! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!” The man chimed, backing up slightly from the doorframe as Nathan all but slammed the door before he could even get the entire sentence out.

“Thanks again.” Nathan sarcastically muttered, eyeing the door with disdain as the man took his leave. It wasn't until his daughter choked on a laugh that she attempted to keep in when he stopped glaring in contempt at the doorstep.

“Hey, it’s piece of mind. That's worth a little paperwork, right?” Nora’s melodic voice sounded from her usual position on the couch, and Nate responded with a hint of a smile laced within his tone.

“For you, Sloane, and Shaun? No price is too high.” Nathan had answer, turning slightly and flicking the forehead of his daughter when she snickered almost inaudibly and mumbled something about him “always having cheesy responses to things.”

“Good answer.” Nora giggled, eyeing her husband with adoration swimming within her irises. 

“At least you think so.” Nathan remarked, eyeing his daughter with a teasing lilt to his voice. Sloane stuck her tongue out at her father, and yelped in surprise when he swiftly began to advance towards her. The girl quickly spun on her heel and sprinted to the other side of the countertop, eyes widening in terror when a smirk green upon her father’s lips. Though he taught her how to fight, and he taught her well, she knew that there was no winning in hand-to-hand combat with her Army-trained father.

“You can’t hit me on my birthday!” Sloane squealed as her father rushed her from the left side, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as Nora watched with her heart swelling up with merriment. The laughs and giggled sounding from both her daughter and husband created a sense of security within the world that was falling to shit around them.

“Sir, Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that “paternal affection” you seem to be so good at.” Codsworth abruptly appeared from Shaun’s room, floating down the hallway and addressing Nathan as he continued to the kitchen counter to create another pot of black coffee. 

“Duty calls.” Nathan stated as he gently placed his daughter back upon the ground, watching her as she shrugged her shoulder and started towards her younger brother’s bedroom.

“I’ll go, too. Haven't seen Turbo at all this morning.” Sloane didn't stop along her way to his bedroom, not even sparing a glance behind her as Nathan followed her down the hallway. Once they arrived at the room, Sloane automatically cooed at her little brother in an attempt to calm his cries.

“Turbo, dude, I love ya to pieces, but you gotta calm down. Please?” Sloane pleaded with the baby, shushing him slightly as she leaned over the side of the crib to carcass his cheek with a single finger.

“Fixed that mobile on his crib the other day. Why don't you give that a spin?” Nathan stated as he leaned against the doorframe with his forearm resting above his head. Sloane’s hand reached up and she gently pushed it to the left, her insides affectionately warming up when she heard the giggle that escaped from her brother. 

“Hey, how's my little guy. Much better now, huh?” Nora cooed at her son as she appeared in the doorway, ducking slightly to avoid her husband’s arm before she reached the crib, gingerly touching the pads of her fingers to the baby’s cheek.

“Listen, after breakfast, I was thinking we could head to the park for a little bit before Sloane’s party. Weather should hold up.” Nora chortled slightly at Sloane’s groan of irritation as she glared slightly at her mother.

“I thought I told you no party.” Sloane had deadpanned, her cheeks flushing with a dust of red as she thought about every person within Sanctuary at her own house. 

“You only turn 19 once, hon. Besides, Elodie and Zane will be over here, too. You guys can suffer together.” Nora joked, shaking her head in dismissal and crossing her arms over her chest as Sloane tried to protest about having everybody at their house. The girl huffed in aggravation when she reached the conclusion that her mother would not budge from her final decision. The only salvation that was comforting her at that moment was the fact that her closest friends would be forced to endure the embarrassment with her.

“Fine. But if we are going to the park, can I take Elodie and Zane? Gotta prep them for the embarrassment that is soon to come.” Sloane shuddered in agonized anticipation, and her parents chuckled at her slightly before answering her initial question.

“Yeah, sounds like fun.” A soft smile reached Nathan’s mouth as he watched his daughter’s grin light up the room. She opened her mouth slightly, the words on the tip of her tongue, when Codsworth’s worried voice rang from the living room.

“Sir? Mum? Sloane? You should come and see this!” The panicked lilt to his voice rose alarm within Sloane’s heart, and she could just barely register the voice of her father asking what was wrong before she started fiddling with the multi-colored marble that hung on a black string tied around her neck that was gifted to her by her by her mother and father on her 15th birthday. It was a nervous tick that she had gained over the years, and her father’s concerned gaze followed her as the family rushed to the living room.

“Followed by… yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions… We’re… We’re trying to get confirmation.” The news anchor displayed on the television was clearly in distress, but he attempted to maintain his professional aura in front of the hundreds of thousands of people that were currently watching him.

“But we seem to lost contact with our affiliate stations.” The man continued on, reading the script placed in front of him as his eyes widened in stunned terror. Sloane could hear her mother’s shell-shocked tone as she looked at Nathan and asked if she was hearing the man right, but she didn't pay any attention, her widened emerald eyes glued to the screen of the television.

“We do have… coming in… confirmed reports. I repeat confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God.” The man’s voice drew to a whisper as he finished reading the script, placing his forehead in the palm of his hand. The last thing Sloane saw was the man rubbing his temples in a feeble attempts to calm himself before the screen become grey and black with static as “Please Stand By” displayed across the television.

“We need to get to the Vault. Now.” Nathan’s voice was firm, and there was no tremble in his tone. His face was cold, stoic, and there was not a single hint of terror lining his facial features. 

Nora quickly spun on her heel and ran down the hallway, entering Shaun’s room before exiting once more with the baby crying in a bundle of blankets her arms.

Nathan’s gaze flickered over to his daughter, who was still staring at the screen in horror, almost as if she was waiting for the news anchor to appear back on the television and say that it was just a false alarm. He grasped his daughter’s shoulder, shaking her gently but firm enough to shake her from her stupor. The girl began trembling, and whimpers and cries began to escape from her throat. 

Panic bubbled at Nathan’s stomach, and his heart began to pound much quicker. He shook his daughter with much more force, concern for her wellbeing beginning to form within his irises. 

No, she couldn’t have an anxiety attack. Not here. Not now.

“Sloane! Come on, we've gotta go!” Her father’s booming voice made her jump slightly as she turned to her father with fear etched into her facial features. Tears began to pool within her eyes, but she quickly shook her head and brought her knuckles up to her waterline to wipe them away.

“Right, right. Sorry. Heh. The world ending on my birthday. Just my fucking luck.” A dry chuckle sounded from Sloane, though it contained no humor. She started towards the front door, but stopped abruptly when she saw Codsworth hovering in front of the couch. The girl swiftly made her way over, wrapping her arms around his metal casing before ordering him to stay safe. 

The four members of the Roth family started sprinting towards the nearby hills, the chilly October air forcing Sloane to rub her arms in an fruitless attempt to keep ahold of some of her warmth. She spared a lingering gaze behind her shoulder at Elodie’s home as they made their way across the bridge, sending a quick prayer to whatever was up there to watch over her, her older brother, and her father.

Several seconds passed until they arrived at the gate, watching as the Vault-Tec Representative that had verified her family’s information was shooed away from the gate, the spinning of the minigun trained on him ultimately forcing him away from the officers. Her father advanced towards what Sloane assumed was the head officer, as he was the one holding the clipboard which validated people’s entries into the Vault.

“We need to get in! We’re on the list.” Nathan’s voice became more resolute as he continued. When the man lowered his gaze to the clipboard below him, it was obvious Nathan was beginning to get antsy, as he crossed his tanned arms across his chest and a huff of irritation left his lips. 

“Infant. Adult male. Adult female. Young adult female. Okay, go ahead.” The man backed away just enough for the family to enter through the gate, gesturing to the soldier who was instructed to direct them to the Vault. 

“You two follow me! Let's go!” The soldier bellowed, spinning around and sprinting further up the hill, not sparing a single second to verify that the family was following him.

“What's going to happen to all those people outside the gate?” Nora had asked, her voice trembling as she feared the answer she was going to be given.

“We’re doing everything we can, now keep moving!” The man didn't stop to address her once, just continuing to jog up the hill and the cold tone of his voice made Sloane wince slightly in disgust. 

“Step up on the platform! In the middle!” The soldier stopped as soon as they reached the top of the hill, throwing his arms forward and pointing at the platform. Together, the family reached the platform, and Nora and Sloane quivered in terror as they anticipated what was to come.

“Almost there. We’re gonna be okay. I love you. All three of you.” Nathan’s final sentence had just barely made it past his lips when the explosion was heard, and the gargantuan mushroom cloud of burning reds, orange, and yellows appeared out of thin air. Previously blue skies become orange with fire and embers. The smoke was suffocating, even from so far away, and Sloane watched on in terror as the devastating cloud of death and destruction began to make it’s way to the Vault. 

“NOW, NOW! SEND IT DOWN NOW!”

The elevator screeched to life, groaning and sputtering in defiance until it ultimately started to descend down the shaft. Though it started moving, it was moving at an incredibly slow pace, and Sloane’s emerald irises swirled with reds and yellows as the cloud came increasingly closer. The heat abruptly blasted her facial features, and it wasn't until Nathan’s arm shot out to bring her to a crouch on the elevator when she realized how close the cloud was to killing everybody on the platform. 

The elevator continued to screech down the shaft, the shrieking of metal coming into contact with metal resounding throughout the Vault. When it lurched to the bottom of the shaft, it let out a final groan and finally settled as the gate to the entrance of the Vault rose. Everyone on the platform ultimately rose from their crouched position, looking around in wonder at the underground fallout shelter. 

“Everyone please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion.” A man dressed in security-like armor stood in front of the gate, his arms placed behind him as his eyes flickered from each person on the platform.

“No need to worry, folks! We’ll get everyone situated in your new home. Vault 111! A better future, underground!” A much more considerate and warm voice rang out over the terrified chatter among the people on the platform, but Sloane could sense the counterfeit sense of security that he was trying to display. 

In a single line, the people of Sanctuary Hills advanced deeper into the Vault, with the Roth family within the middle of the line. Sloane’s heart ached, it twisted this way and that as she thought about the people that were left behind, and the people that were dead. A choked whimper almost escaped from her mouth as thoughts of Elodie and Zane floated around her mind. 

There was no way that they survived that blast.

A robotic, smooth female voice suddenly resonated from the intercoms, and a wave of anxiety and distrust washed over her. There was something odd about this entire establishment. Her gaze flickered to all the men and women who were positioned about the room, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she noted that each of them had a wide grin formed upon their lips, despite the world above them coming to an end at that very second.

“Just put this Vault Suit on and follow the doctor, here. He’ll show you where to go.” A overly-joyful voice chirped from in front of her, and Sloane’s neck snapped forward as she looked at the woman who stood in front of her, a smile etched onto her face and her hands thrusting a blue jumpsuit into her arms. 

Sloane nodded reluctantly, eyeing the woman warily as she cautiously took the suit from her fingertips and followed the doctor who was blabbering about the facility they were currently in. Her mother walked with a crying Shaun in her arms in front of her, while her father walked at her side, rubbing a comforting hand along his daughter’s spine.

“How long do you think we’ll be down here?” Nora had asked, her cerulean eyes wandering from the doctor the the room that they had entered. 

“Oh, we’ll be going over all that in orientation. Just a few medical items we have to get through first.” The doctor reassured her, looking over her shoulder to spare her a gentle smile before he turned forward once more. 

They continued to walk until they reached the back of the peculiar room that they had arrived at. There were multiple pods occupying most of the space within the room, and they were emitting a sort of steam that was cold to the touch. As they advanced deeper into the room, Sloane eyed her neighbors willingly climbing into the pods with not a hint of fear radiating from them, grinning and chatting with the Vault-Tec doctors and administrators.

The family directed their attention to the doctor that had lead them there, waiting for him to give them further instructions as he turned around to address them directly.

“Just step in here and put your Vault Suit on.” The man gestured to the pod, his voice attempting to sound as reassuring as possible. Sloane lips parted slightly, ready to ask what type of pod she was going to step into, but the sound of her brother’s cries interrupted her question.

The sounds of her father’s shushing didn't register in Sloane’s mind as she eyed the doctor suspiciously, her eyes narrowing dubiously as she watched the doctor become jittery under her intense gaze. Attempting to maintain his calming persona, he smiled anxiously at her, opening his mouth to speak.

“Can I help you?” The man asked, a hint of irritation inching its way into his tone. 

“Not at all.” Sloane snarled, watching as the man’s eyes widened at the hostility that radiated off her. She was about to ask him what was actually going on in the facility, but her father’s hand grasping her shoulder made her calm slightly. 

“Come on, Sloane. Leave it.” Her father mumbled, eyeing the doctor that was clearing his throat from embarrassment. However, the red that had rushed to his cheeks never truly faded. 

Her father crushed her into his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and muttering that he loved her and that everything would be okay. His fingers threaded through her brunette hair, and Sloane allowed her head to relax against her father’s chest. A single tear spilled from her eye, and she closed her eyes for a second before she backed away and held her mother close to her. 

As soon as her mother and Sloane separated, the doctor was egging them into their pods, avoiding Sloane’s gaze as she narrowed her eyes in disdain. She threw the blue suit over the outfit she was wearing and let out an anxious puff of air as she eyed the pod, ultimately grabbing the handles on the sides and pushing herself onto the seat. 

The pod slammed closed as soon as her feet were inside, and her gaze found her mother’s, who was diagonal from her own pod. The gentle smile that spread across her face calmed Sloane’s anxiety, even if it was just slightly, and the girl clenched her fists in anticipation as she exhaled heavily. Her eyes screwed tightly shut as the robotic voice who greeted them at the entrance of the Vault returned.

“Resident: Secure.”

“Occupant Vitals: Normal.”

“Procedure complete.” 

“In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

And then she was nothing.


	2. As We Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden drastic tragedy forces Nathan and Sloane through indescribable despair as new world horrors destroy them.

“It’s this one. Here.” Sloane’s eyes groggily opened at the sound of a woman’s voice pervading the previous silence, and her gaze automatically narrowed into a squint as her irises desperately attempted to adjust to the darkness.

How long had she been unconscious?

“Open it.” A gruff voice commanded the woman, and Sloane’s ears began to ring at an incredibly-high pitch, irritated at the sudden appearance of noise as it had been accustomed to silence for so long.

It took several seconds for Sloane’s irises to adjust in the dim light that her cryogenic pod provided, and she almost shrieked in joy when she noticed the release to her mother’s pod creaking open, her baby brother beginning to cry in annoyance in her arms.

“Is it over? Are we okay?” The sudden urge to cry out in merriment washed over Sloane in waves, her mother’s melodic tone instilling a sense of security within Sloane. Coughs escaped from her mother’s chapped lips, and Sloane began to bang her clenched fists against the glass of her pod, desperately trying to gain her attention.

“Almost. Everything’s gonna be fine.” The gruff voice belonged to a mysterious man who was stood several feet from Nora’s pod, and Sloane’s eyes widened in growing fear as her gaze flickered to the holster that contained a gun at the man’s side. His hand was strategically poised on the handle, as if he was expecting for something to go wrong.

“Come here. Come here, baby.” The woman who was the first to speak was cooing at Sloane’s baby brother, attempting to coax the boy out of his mother’s hands. Her hands were thrusting towards Shaun, attempting to relinquish him from Nora’s grasp.

“No, wait. No, I've got him!” Sloane’s mother practically shrieked at the woman trying to pull the baby from her arms, jerking her entire figure back into the cushioned padding of the seat in her pod. Her tone rose in terror as she realized what was occurring, and she tucked the baby further into her chest and attempted to, with the limited energy she had left lingering in her body, shove the woman’s arms away from her.

“Let the boy go. I'm only gonna tell you once!” The guttural tone of the man’s voice rose slightly in anger as he emptied the holster of the gun, raising the barrel to Nora’s temple. 

“I'm not giving you Shaun!” Her tone was indefinite and unwavering, the fear that was previously heard in her voice faded away as she attempted to wrestle Shaun away from the mysterious woman’s grip.

Sloane’s ears rang with an near-impossible pitch when the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber of the gun resonated throughout the Vault, finding its way into her mother’s skull.

Breathes of indescribable agony and disbelief escaped from Sloane, and her eyes never once wavered from the crimson blood that steadily dripped down the planes of her mother’s facial features.

“Goddammit! Get the kid out of here, and let’s go!” The man’s rugged words barely registered in Sloane’s ears, and her gaze snapped to the the man who had murdered her mother as he found his way between her father’s pod and her own. His revolting gaze flickered between, what Sloane had assumed, her father and herself, grinning manically as he leaned towards her pane of glass.

“At least we have the backups.” The man drawled, the gravelly tone of his voice making Sloane shuddered in disgust as a deranged smirk found its way to his lips. Sobs racked her body, and she couldn't stop her trembling, but she found the strength within her to gradually raise her fist, her quivering middle finger rising up as she maintained his gaze. 

The man chuckled to himself before he stalked off, and Sloane’s gaze returned to her mother. Whimpers escaped her throat as the realization of her mother no longer being alive caught up with her, and Sloane helplessly bashed her fists against the pod as the cryogenic stasis began once more. 

“Cryogenic sequence reinitialized.” 

The pummeling of her fists against the glass began to dramatically slow as the pod began to freeze once again, and one last solitary tear found its way down Sloane’s cheek as she promised herself that she would find the man who murdered her mother, and that she would get her baby brother back.

It was her last thought before the freezing cold of the cryogenic stasis inevitably caused everything to darken once more.  
______________________________________________________________

 

The continuous beeping of the Vault Computer issuing out a warning woke her first. 

The grogginess was still lingering within her as her eyes steadily opened, but the spluttering of the coughs escaping from her lips abruptly awoke her. As she became increasingly aware of her surroundings, she began to pound her fists against the glass pane, desperate for the release hatch to open her pod. 

She wasn't expecting it to do as she wished, so when the hatch did in fact open, her small figure collapsed to the metal ground below her. She continued to cough and hack as she fruitlessly tried to push her figure up from the ground, her arms quaking in refusal as she crumpled to the rough ground once more. The sound of the hatch of the pod next to her releasing registered in her brain, and despite her energy levels running low within her body, her head snapped to the side as she saw her father slump to the ground as well.

Summoning all the strength left within in her body, Sloane was able to raise her figure from the floor, and her legs were able to support her body weight as she stood, despite them shaking slightly. 

The girl was about to reach her father when he shot up from his previous position on the floor, and Sloane could practically see the adrenaline and disbelief run through his veins as he reached his wife’s pod. 

“C’mon! There has to be a release!” The desperation of his voice shattered his daughter’s heart as she looked on, sobs taking control of her body as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking for any source of security. 

“Come on, come on, come on! Oh, God.” The man’s voice descended into a harrowed whisper as he slammed a clenched fist upon the button of the release hatch. 

Sloane inched forward slightly as the hatch swung open, and she watched as the pod’s limited lighting illuminated her father’s eyes. The emerald green of his irises had a glossy sheen upon them, and the tears that began to pool at his waterline spilt over upon the planes of his cheekbones. 

Her father’s gaze was glued to the crimson blood that was splattered across his wife’s face, and his trembling hand reached up slightly to brush a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. Two of his fingers then found their way to her cheek, and Sloane’s watched with tears staining her facial features as her father caressed his wife’s cheek for the last time. 

“I’ll find whoever did this, I’ll get Shaun back, and I will keep Sloane safe. I promise.” The man’s voice quivered as he reached out and grasped the ring placed upon Nora’s finger, a sharp intake of breathe finding its way into the open as he cautiously slid it off of her finger. 

The abrupt sound of a body collapsing to the floor forced Nathan’s gaze from his wife to his daughter as she curled into a ball upon the frigid metal of the floor and hid her face in her knees. 

The man’s heart fragmented into several pieces as he watched his baby girl shatter upon the floor in front of her murdered mother, and he lowered himself to the ground and crawled next to his daughter as he pulled her trembling frame into his lap. 

“We’ll be okay, Sloane. I’ll make sure of it.” Though tremulous, the man’s voice was tenacious and resolute as he threaded his quaking fingers through his daughter’s hair, brushing the frozen ice particles that had formed from her time in the cryogenic pod away from her tresses.

A snivel and a whimpering “okay” was the only confirmation that Sloane had heard his arbitrary promise, but she didn't seem entirely too convinced with the suspicion that was evident in her tone.

Tense silence blanketed the two remaining members of the Roth family, and several minutes of weakening sobs and trembling ensued before Nathan finally suggested finding an exit out of the Vault. Tears stained their cheeks as they stood on their wobbly legs, their heads swiveling left and right as they desperately searched for an exit.

The two advanced through the Vault, stumbling across lockers that contained handgun ammunition, terminals that stored information that made their blood run cold, and syringe-like containers that seemed to have been created for medicinal purposes.

They had just emerged from what had seemed to serve as the local dormitories when they distinguished the body of a giant cockroach resting upon the other side of a glass plane. As they began to near it to further inspect its features, it leaped from the glass, scurrying away and finding solace in a nearby engine room.   
“Giant roaches? What the hell?” Sloane exhaled in shock as she watched the cockroach flutter its unusually large wings, looking to her father for answers. The man simply shook his head from left to right in a shell-shocked manner, his eyes never once wavering from the mutated creature until it was no longer in his field of vision. 

“Let’s just keep moving.” The man mumbled, grasping his daughter’s wrist gently when she regained glued to the floor. 

They continued to cautiously traipse through the vault, ensuring to pick up anything that might've been of any value within this new world. Wrenches, screwdrivers, oil canisters, hammers, and various other items were stuffed into the pockets of the Roth’s, and after they confirmed that they had searched the entire complex, they proceeded to the entrance of what had seemed to serve as an office.

The two parted ways for the time being to comb the office for any valuable supplies or items, and soon reunited in the middle of the office to scan the surface of the countertop that had a terminal humming with energy upon it. 

Sloane continued to look throughout the room as her father took a seat in front of the buzzing terminal, and she swiped four Stimpacks, a 10 millimeter gun, and ammunition from the counter as the clicking of keyboard keys forced the tense silence from the office.

Her gaze flickered around the room in a final once-over, and her emerald eyes brightened immensely with joy when she spotted a raggedy backpack in the corner of the dimly-lit room.

The girl bounded to the pack, her hands eagerly grasping the torn straps haphazardly stitched to the fabric as she placed it on the countertop and found the rusted zipper. It took several seconds of frustration to force the zipper to move, but when it did, Sloane almost squealed in joyous triumph.

Inside the pack was more ammunition for the gun she had previously found, two gun holsters for the hip, canned foods, tins of purified water, various pieces of what seemed to be leather armor, and a perfectly preserved Grognak the Barbarian comic book. 

The sound of gears uniting as one and the groaning of a nearby exit lurching to an open state didn't force Sloane’s gleeful irises from the comic book as she lightly placed the pads of her finger tips to the front page, swiping them over it as gently as she could manage. 

“Sloane? What’re you looking at, kiddo?” The man asked, unable to keep the gentle smile from spreading across his lips as he watched his daughter turn to him with a awe-struck expression swimming within her emerald irises. 

“Heaven.” Sloane replied, not listening to her father’s chuckle as she returned her gaze to the book in her grasp. Her father shook his head slightly as he found his way past her, looking at the contents of the backpack that his daughter had discovered.

“Looks like whoever was in charge of this place already knew somethin’ bad was gonna happen, and they was ready for it.” Despite the elation that coursed through her veins at her discoveries, Sloane grimaced in slight uneasiness at her father’s claim. 

Hope didn't seem to be a thing that ran highly among the people of this new world. 

Sloane began to strap various pieces of armor to her Vault Suit, handing the remaining pieces to her father and watching in silence as he followed. After their armor was placed in their correct positions and was strapped on tightly, the two wandered over to what seemed to be a security room, and managed to swipe several boxes of ammunition from the metallic shelves that resided in the corner. Sloane’s father also spotted a gun that was identical to her own, and placed it in the holster that was secured tightly to his side.

The two confirmed that they had grabbed everything of value within the office before they turned to the now-opened entry way to the entrance of the Vault, huffing in slight anxiety as their legs began to carry them forward. 

It didn't take the Roth’s long to reach the entrance of the Vault, and anticipation clawed at their hearts as they glimpsed at the ginormous metal gear that separated them from the outside world. After several seconds spent combing the room for any useful supplies that was available, the Roth’s reached the control panel that opened the gate to the elevator of the Vault. 

Both of their gazes immediately flickered to the skeletons sprawled across the grated floors, and their eyes instantaneously found the computer-like devices that laid, unscathed, upon the bones of a two of their wrists. 

Sloane leaned down to snatch the forearm that was disconnected from a skeleton from the floor, shaking it slightly and watching as it helplessly collapsed to the floor.

The girl paid no attention to her father as she snapped the device to her own wrist, pressing the pad of her fingertip to the orange button that was blinking relentlessly. 

Her emerald eyes widened as the device flickered to life, and she swiped her index finger across the screen to efficiently rid it of any dust that collected upon its surface. 

The words “Pip-Boy” abruptly appeared on the screen before they disappeared once more, and Sloane was slightly overwhelmed as copious amounts of information were thrown at her when the Pip-Boy displayed its main menu. 

Lowering her wrist, Sloane ultimately decided that she would further examine her new device later. At that moment, she had far bigger things to accomplish. She met the gaze of her dad, and after eyeing the Pip-Boy on his own wrist, the two nodded their heads in confirmation before Sloane turned back to the control panel.

Her irises scanned the panel as she searched for any instructions on how to open the Vault door, but she ultimately concluded that she would have to figure it out herself. 

Returning her questioning gaze to a jack in the panel, Sloane eyed it with confusion before her father motioned to the wire that was attached to the side of her Pip-Boy. The girl slightly raised her nimble fingers to the device, and she proceeded to pull the wire free. 

A pop resounded from the device as a plug also pulled free with the wire, and Sloane grasped it before she cautiously inserted it into the jack of the panel. Her gaze snapped to a glass panel that flipped open as soon as the plug was lodged in the hole, which now revealed a flickering red button.

With a cautious gaze thrown at her father, Sloane directed her attention back to the angrily-blinking button. The girl clenched her fingers into a fist, and hesitated for only a second before she slammed her hand into the button, jumping slightly in shock when the sudden squealing of gears destroyed the uncomfortable silence of the room. 

Sloane backed up several paces and stopped next to her father, and the two watched as the metal gear that once prevented them from escaping the Vault spun to the right. 

Soon enough, Sloane and her father were staring at the elevator that would guide them back to the outside world.

A trembling breathe of anxiety escaped from both father and daughter, and they shared a single look of uncertainty before their legs began to usher them forward. The clapping of their shoes meeting the metal of the walk-way was the only sound that could be heard within the entrance of the Vault, save for the labored breaths that were shared between Sloane and Nathan. 

It didn't take the Roth’s long to reach the elevator shaft, and as they began to near it, the grate that blocked them from entering the elevator began to ascend, groaning and squeaking in reluctance. 

As soon as the grate had completely risen, the father and daughter duo hesitantly stepped upon the metal floor of the elevator. Sloane clenched her eyes shut as the grate began to descend once again, shutting them out from the entrance of the Vault, and she felt her father’s concerned gaze searching her face desperately.

“How you doin’, Sloane?” Her father’s voice rang out, but Sloane could just barely hear him over the deafening screeching of the elevator ushering them back up to the surface.

“The world ended on my birthday, my mother was killed in front of me, and my baby brother was kidnapped. Not too good.” The monotony of his daughter’s tone terrified Nathan. A blank look had settled within her emerald irises, and despite him attempting numerous times, she absolutely refused to meet his gaze as she stared at the metal grating in front of her. 

A hefty sigh absconded from Nathan’s lips, and he eventually stopped his fruitless attempts of trying to force his daughter to meet his eyes. However, he wanted to assure Sloane that she wasn't facing her suffering alone, and as he intertwined his fingers with his daughter’s, he squeezed her hand tightly in an attempt to comfort her. 

A feeling of elation welled up in the pit of his stomach when she returned the gesture.

The elevator jolting to an abrupt stop startled both of the Roth’s several seconds later, and their heads snapped up as abrupt shrieking of metal meeting metal sounded from above them. Their arms shot above their eyes immediately as their irises met with the blinding rays of the afternoon sun, and as their eyes desperately attempted to adjust to the sudden appearance of non-artificial light, the elevator ascended completely. 

The sudden temperature change forced a chill down Sloane’s spine, and both her and her father continued to hold their forearms over their eyes to prevent themselves from being paralyzed with the sun’s light. Even after an entire minute had passed, Sloane refused to lower her aching arm, terror creeping into her veins at what she would see as soon as her arm had left its position. 

It took thirty more seconds before Sloane worked up the courage to lower it, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn't.

A choked whimper instantaneously found its way passed Sloane’s mouth, and her knees buckled from underneath her as she collapsed to the ground in heartbroken disbelief. Dry sobs sounded from her as her gaze widely flickered over her destroyed neighborhood. Her lungs felt as though they might collapse, her stomach began to turn in disgust, and her heart ached in despair as Sloane shook her head left and right in desperate denial.

The few trees that still stood had been destroyed by the nuclear blast, and were merely charred stumps with no branches or leaves. Skeletons littered the dirt around her. The houses that previously occupied her neighborhood were nothing more than concrete foundations and hushed whispers of the dead, few of the homes still having rusted walls, floors, and roofs. The vibrant colors that previously created a comfortable feeling within Sanctuary Hills were no longer existent, replaced by dull beiges, browns, and grays. 

There was not a single living thing in sight. 

Sloane felt her father clasp a hand on her shoulder as he hopelessly attempted to force his sobs away, but she didn't acknowledge him. Shoving her forehead into the dirt below her, Sloane fruitlessly tried to rid her brain of the images that were burned into her mind. 

“Sloane, honey, we have to go. Maybe there are people down there. Maybe they can help us. Maybe Elodie and Zane survived.” Nathan’s voice trailed off as he continued to talk, and though Sloane seemed to have responded slightly to the mention of her friend’s names, both of the Roth’s knew that there was an extremely slim chance of their survival. 

Sloane said nothing as sobs racked throughout her body, and numerous minutes passed in silence before she quieted herself, though the trembling never left her figure. 

Nathan could just barely hear Sloane’s hushed “okay” as she lifted her eyes from the ground, and he watched his daughter as she reluctantly stood upon her wobbling legs. Though it took her quite a long time, Nathan said nothing, supporting his daughter as he grasped her arms and aided her in standing. 

“Okay.” Sloane repeated, pressing the palms of her hands to her cheeks and hastily ridding them of any tears before she turned to her father. The girl reached out and took her father’s hand in her grip before squeezing it slightly, the corner of her lip lifting ever so slightly.

“Time to go kick this new world’s ass.”


	3. JSS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane and Nathan find an old friend and begin the search for Shaun.

It took quite a while to work up the courage to descend down the path leading to Sanctuary, but Sloane and Nathan eventually started the trek to their home. Plumes of dust rose from the ground with each step down the path, and the crunching of the dirt beneath their feet was the only sound that echoed between the Roth’s. Though not a single word was shared between the two, it wasn't hard to discern what the other was thinking.

It was terrible enough to discover the destruction that Sanctuary Hills had experienced on the elevator of the Vault, but it was certain to be much more worse up close.

Even after nearing the demolished homes, not a word left Sloane’s or Nathan’s lips, save for the appalled gasp that managed to escape from Sloane. Her father’s hand reached up to slightly rub her spine in a fickle attempt to comfort her, but nothing could comfort Sloane in that moment. Despite the aching that clawed at their chests, the Roth’s advanced to the demolished concrete of the neighborhood, their heads swiveling left and right as they realized the scale of destruction that surrounded them.

The familiar sounds of gears spluttering and steam emitting from metal reached Sloane’s ears first.

“Codsworth?” Sloane breathed out in utter disbelief, her eyes flickering around the neighborhood as she spun around in a desperate attempt to find the robot.

The clanging of gears and steam rang out once again, and Sloane’s neck instantly snapped in direction it sounded from. When both her and Nathan’s eyes found the humming robot floating about in the front yard of their home, a choked sound of joy left Sloane and a sheen of unshed tears formed within her eyes.

In the next second, Nathan’s daughter was sprinting over to the robot, shrieking his name in gleeful shock as she neared him. The robot, hearing the calls of his name, spun about, the appendages that resembled eyes upon his body widening in astonishment.

The second Sloane reached Codsworth, she threw her arms around his metal casing, just narrowly missing the claw-like appendage that Codsworth had to swivel out of her path. The robot’s theoretical heart shattered into pieces as he heard dry sobs sounding from Sloane, and he very gently placed an appendage on her spine and comfortingly rubbed up and down, desperate to calm her but simply astounded that Sloane was still alive.

“As I live and breathe! It's… It’s REALLY you!” The robot didn't attempt to conceal the shock that was evident in his tone, and as he neared the end of his appalled exclamation, a sound resembling a whimper escaped from Codsworth.

“Codsworth! What happened… to the world?” Sloane distinguished the voice of her father behind her, and the girl begrudgingly released Codsworth from her grip. She gave a gentle smile to the robot before sniveling slightly and ridding her cheeks of any tears as she backed up several paces to stand next to her father.

“The world, sir? Well, besides our geraniums still being the envy of Sanctuary Hills, I'm afraid things have been dreadfully dull around here.” The joyous tone that was initially programmed into the robot’s manufacturing system returned after the shock had left his body, and Sloane narrowed her eyes in confusion as she tilted her head slightly, trying to discern what Codsworth was talking about.

“Things will be so much more exciting with you, Sloane, and the missus back! Where is your better half, by the by?” The unsuspected question caused Sloane to clench her eyes shut in distress and a solitary tear to slip down the plane of her cheek, and the girl came to the horrifying realization that her mother was truly dead, and Codsworth had no idea what had just occurred within the Vault.

“They… They killed her.” The pain laced in her father’s tone caused an ache to bubble up within her heart, and Sloane reached over and gripped her father’s hand in her own in a futile attempt to slightly comfort the man.

“Sir, these things you're saying. These… terrible things… I… I believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction to calm this dire mood.” Codsworth’s choice to simply ignore the information that was given to him slightly angered Sloane, and she turned her head to give a look to her father, silently wondering how he was going to handle Codsworth’s denial of the recent tragedy.

“It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad… with you..?” Codsworth’s sentence trailed off as his eye-like sockets flickered back and forth, evidently trying to spot the infant but becoming uncertain when he realized that Shaun was not with them.

“Shaun’s been kidnapped. But I'm going to find him. I'm going to get my son back, and I'm going to keep my daughter safe.” The agony that could be heard in his voice gradually disappeared as he continued to speak, becoming resolute and firm as a fiery determination began to burn deep within his irises. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, and he squeezed his daughter’s hand tightly when he spoke about her.

“It's worse than I thought. Hmm hmm. You're suffering from… hunger-induced paranoia. Not eating properly for 200 years will do that, I'm afraid.” As soon as the words “200 words” left the robot’s voice box, Sloane eyes widened dramatically. Within her chest, her heart began to pound sporadically, and she fruitlessly tried to disgust the unbelievable information she was given.

“Wait, what? 200 years? What? Are you…?” Sloane couldn't seem to form a cohesive sentence as she spluttered over her words, her hands automatically reaching up and interlocking themselves upon the back of her skull.

“A bit over 210, actually, Miss Sloane. Give or take a little for the Earth’s rotation and some minor dings to the ol’ chronometer.” The overly-casual tone of the robot almost forced Sloane to reach over and shake Codsworth while screaming in his face for answers, but she maintained her composure as she ran the palms of her hands down her face in an exhausted manner.

“That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.” Sloane disregarded the sudden rumbling in her stomach as anger began to well up in the pit of her stomach, and she could practically feel the frustration boil through her veins. Despite her emotions, Sloane controlled her shortened temper, beginning to worry for the robot who didn't seem to get the memo that the world had been destroyed by a nuclear war.

“Codsworth, you're acting… a little bit weird. What's wrong?” Sloane raised her hand to rest it on Codsworth’s metal casing, concern etched into her facial features as her eyes searched for any indication that contributed to the robot’s overly-artificial cheerful attitude.

“I…I…Oh, Miss Sloane, it’s been just horrible! Two centuries with no one to talk to, no one to serve!” The robot’s joyous facade quickly deteriorated in front of the Roth’s, and Sloane and Nathan watched on with shattered hearts as the distressed robot finally revealed his true emotions.

“I spend the first ten years trying to keep the floors waxed, but nothing gets out nuclear fallout from vinyl wood. Nothing!

“And don't get me started about the futility of dusting a collapsed house. And the car! The car! How do you polish rust?” Codsworth’s tone became more and more frenzied as he continued on about his inability to serve as a cleaning robot, and Sloane felt unprecedented guilt claw up her chest. Though he was a robot, Codsworth had been left alone for over 210 years with nobody, other than himself, to offer him company.

“Stay with us, pal. Focus.” Despite his attempt to conceal his impatience to the robot, Sloane could read her father like a book, and it was becoming obvious to her that he was becoming irritated about the lack of valuable information he was not receiving.

“I'm afraid I don't know anything, sir. The bombs came, and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for certain that you two and your family were… dead.” The agony of Codsworth’s voice remained constant as he spoke, but when he mentioned the topic of death, a noise that resembled a choked sob left the robot.

“I did find this holotape. I believe the missus was going to present it to you. As a surprise. But then, well… everything happened.” Codsworth thrusted his claw-like appendage towards Nathan, and Sloane watched with heartbreak as her father shivered slightly in distress before he accepted the tape, placing it in the pack that they had found within the Vault.

“Thank you, Codsworth.”

Codsworth sniveled slightly before whispering a broken “you're welcome”, and then suggested that the three of them should search the destroyed houses around Sanctuary for Sloane’s mother or younger brother. Nathan and Sloane shared a look of melancholy sorrow as Codsworth began to hover in the direction of a neighbor’s home, and Sloane ultimately decided that she needed a few moments alone.

“While you and Codsworth look around, I’m gonna go to Elodie and Zane’s house. See if I can find any supplies or anything like that.” Sloane spun her heel and began towards her friend’s home, but abruptly stopped when her father grasped her wrist firmly.

“You sure that's a good idea?” Her father drawled, and when Sloane turned to face her father, worry was beginning to form upon his facial features. The unspoken truth that both Nathan and Sloane were aware of was hanging heavily within the air.

“I have to know.” Sloane whispered, not meeting her father’s pleading gaze as she forced her father to release his grip on her wrist. Without uttering another word, Sloane turned and continued her path to the home, not turning to face her father when he concernedly murmured her name.

When Sloane reached the threshold of the home, Sloane spared a glance behind her shoulder and let out an inaudible breath of relief when she noted that her father was no longer standing where he initially was, as he had gone with Codsworth to inspect a nearby home. Though she was appreciative of his offers to help, this was something that she had to accomplish herself.

It’s hard to accurately determine just how long Sloane stood on the doorstep, quivering fingers reached out to twist the doorknob and eyes glued to charred and rotting wood. It might’ve been two minutes. It might’ve been ten. It might’ve been fifteen.

Any amount of time was disregarded as Sloane inaudibly murmured to herself, cursing at her inability to open a damn door. And although there was no indication of courage burning within her eyes, her own reprimanding led to Sloane opening the door of her dead friend’s home in a blind haste to simply get it over with.

Though that idea was swiftly cast away when she saw the arrant destruction that had obliterated the house.

Broken, ceramic tile lay shattered upon the foundation, while the wallpaper plastered to the walls was evidently crumbling into dust. The countertop that occupied the dining area has been crushed into nothing but wooden fragments, and the light fixtures that previously hung from the ceiling were nowhere to be seen. Sofas, love seats, and chairs had been diminished into nothing more but a tangle of mold and charred fabric.

The destruction that surrounded her, however, seemed arbitrary when Sloane’s eyes found the skeleton that limply laid against the wallpaper.

She was horrified. The bleached remnants of bone were picked clean of any skin, and disregarding the bile that was beginning to rise up from her stomach, Sloane rushed over to the skeleton, helplessly searching for any indication of the deceased’s identity.

The girl was quickly becoming dizzy. Exhaustion resulting from the events that had occurred had finally began to diminish her energy. She felt sick to her stomach. The dull throb that had instilled itself within her skull had quickly became a monstrous ache that agonized her.

Despite all that plagued her, Sloane was able to deduce that the skeleton’s height was much too high in order to be Elodie or Zane. However, it did seem to match the size that their father had stood at before the nuclear war.

She was disgusted with herself when relief crept up her spine at her realization.

Sighing deeply, the girl murmured a quick ‘sorry’ to the forgotten tangle of bones before rising from her crouched position. She spun upon her heel before reluctantly advancing down the hall, cursing at the crunching beneath her feet that echoed from each step.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she turned the corner to enter Elodie’s bedroom, and it only further battered within her chest when she found no sign of her friend or her brother recently being there.

Memories of endless nights of laughter and shared tears of joy, distress, and excitement hit Sloane so suddenly that she stumbled back in shock. Countless hours of studying, playing video games with Zane, and talking about everything and nothing had been spent in that room, and now it had been obliterated; turned into nothing but dust and distant memories.

And Sloane lost it.

She crumbled to the floor in agony, her figure shaking with distress as she curled her knees into her chest. Dry sobs rumbled from her chest, and a puddle of her own tears formed beneath her face as sobbed in indescribable torture. Everything she had ever known had been stripped away, torn from her own fingers and whisked away in the wind.

Even her own mother was dead.

Sloane wasn't sure how long she lied on the cool tile, but the irritation of the skin on her face that resulted from dried tears indicated it had been a long period of time. She still shook as she gradually stood from her cradled position upon the floor, and her neck began to ache from lack of movement.

And then her broken gaze found the three letters carved into the wall.

It was sloppily written, and it was evident that somebody used their fingernail to haphazardly slice through the wood. It was clear that it was carved in a haste; somebody must've done it before they left the abandoned home.

Sloane knew that it was Elodie's work.

Her index finger quivered as she gently ran it over the splintered wood. Aches rippled throughout her body as hot, salty tears dribbled down the planes of her cheekbones, and Sloane eyed the “JSS” that had been etched into the wood with despair.

“Oh, El.” She breathed out, inhaling deeply before rising to her feet. She stood in the room for just a minute longer, clenching her eyes shut and trying to remember the memories that had been created within those walls 200 years ago.

  
The girl exhaled slightly in grief before turning and exiting the room. Though she was certain that she was going to enter the bedroom once again in the near future, it felt that she was leaving that room, and it's memories, for the final time. And in a way, she was, for what the room used to be could never be the same, but she chose to ignore the heart wrenching feeling as she left the home.

And though the house was calling for her to turn around for one last time, just one single glance, not once did she turn around. She was going to, she swore she was, but her father’s sudden appearance distracted Sloane from the heart ache that would inevitably occur.

“Codsworth said that we should head to Concord. That's where we’ll find people. Maybe find some hints to where Shaun went.” The man relinquished his holster of his pistol before ejecting the magazine, swiftly checking the amount of bullets that remained before shoving it back into the gun.

Sloane said nothing in response, simply nodding her head and smiling softly at the fond memories of her and her family visiting the Museum of Freedom in the summer before she began college. Her father seemed to realize what she had been reminiscing about, as he clasped a reassuring hand on her shoulder and feebly grinned at her before turning and advancing to the Sanctuary bridge.

And as Sloane followed her father across the bridge that could collapse beneath them at any given moment, the wooden planks quivering beneath their footsteps, she traced three letters in the grime that had settled upon her fist as the same thought repeated within her mind like a mantra.

‘Just Survive Somehow.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you get where the JSS reference came from, I love you.


	4. No Man’s Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sloane and Nathan meet the remaining survivors of the Commonwealth Minutemen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes i know i’m a terrible person please forgive me for not updating for so long

Dust swirling into obscuring clouds, the chirping of crickets that survived the nuclear holocaust, and foreign sounds of animals that didn't previously exist caused an immediate feeling of discomfort to encapsulate Nathan and Sloane Roth as their feet crashed against the destroyed pavement of the road.

“Let’s head to the Red Rocket up ahead. Maybe there’s supplies.” Nathan’s voice pierced the deafening silence that surrounded him and his daughter, but when he was met with no response from her, he spared a perplexed glance over his right shoulder.

She was staring at something that didn’t exist, a hollowness that couldn't be explained lingering within her pained eyes. Clenching and unclenching her jaw with an emotion that couldn't be described splayed across her face, Sloane didn't register the calls of her name until her father was forced to clasp a hand on her shoulder.

“You still here, kid?” He asked, a throbbing concern for his daughter boiling in his heart as his eyes searched her face for any indication of her sudden vulnerability.

“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” Sloane elaborated, offering her father a relieving solace in the soft grin that she threw his way. She assured her father that she would be okay before gesturing her hand towards the gleaming rocket that hung in the sky, silently telling Nathan to continue down the path to the abandoned gas station. 

The two advanced towards the rusting building, an aura of wariness encompassing them when they reached the garage. They were greatly aware of the world that they had woken up to was anything but comforting, but it was a different experience when they saw the horrors of the wastelands themselves. 

“Head inside, see if there's anything worth taking. I’ll check around in here.” Nathan’s eyes combed the garage for valuable material as he spoke, and he offered a reassuring glance to his daughter before he turned to what seemed to serve as a diagnostics cart and began to scan the area for supplies.

Sloane nodded her head up and down, not necessarily to her father, but more so to herself. She made sure to unholster her pistol and draw it to her chest before entering the building, bringing the sight to her left eye as she peered around the corner.

When she was sure that nothing would attack her within the confines of the building, a certain relief buzzed through her as she placed her pistol back in its holster. A silent breath of reassurance escaped from her smooth lips, and she took a single glance around the room before beginning to search for valuable supplies.

The startling bark of a dog that came from behind her caused Sloane to whip her pistol from its holster as she spun around in a terrified haste.

The dog that met her hardened gaze, however, didn't seem to resemble the rabid dog that Sloane had noticed when they crossed the bridge. This dog seemed to be a normal animal that previously existed before the bombs had dropped. Though she was grateful that it wasn't feral, she couldn't help but wonder where it had came from, as she thought that animals like it weren't able to survive the blast.

Blood matted its fur, coating the black and brown follicles of hair into a tangled, incomprehensible mess. Cuts, lacerations, and gashes were peppered all over its body, oozing crimson blood. And despite all the trauma that this dog had obviously experienced, it sat in front of Sloane, tilting its head to the side and barking playfully as it seemed to grin at the bewildered girl.

“Hey, boy. Where’d you come from?” Although the dog seemed friendly, Sloane was cautious when she gently threaded her fingers in his fur, but she beamed with delight when he nuzzled towards her touch.

“You wanna come with us? My dad and I?” She cooed, and Sloane proceeded to crouch to the ground while giggling at the dog’s eagerness. A boisterous bark was the response she received, and she nodded her head before rising to her feet and telling the fervent dog to follow her.

“Dad, look what I found.” The playful lilt that echoed from her words caused Nathan to turn around when his daughter entered the garage, and a breath of astonishment left the man when his eyes found the dog that sat at her side, a goofy grin adorning his snout. 

Nathan said nothing, simply advancing towards the dog and relishing in the laughter that sounded from his daughter when it rushed forward and leaped at the unsuspecting man. 

“He’s an eager boy, that's for sure.” Nathan stated, easing his nimble fingers through the dog’s course fur and chuckling when he collapsed to the ground in delight.

“Figured he could stay with us. Help us out along the way.” Sloane began, and hope practically radiated off of her body as she gazed at her father with a particular gleam illuminating her irises. 

It was a gleam that he hadn’t seen since the bombs fell.

The nonchalant “sure” she received was enough to make her squeal in joy, and Nathan’s heart swelled with affection as he watched his daughter wrap her taut arms around their new friend. He wasn’t sure he had seen her offer him a real smile since her mother was shot, but the laughter, her laughter, that was bouncing off the garage walls offered the man enough solace that relief washed over him in waves. 

Until the abrupt sounds of creatures bursting from the dirt surrounding them reached their ears.

The garage became silent then, the Roth’s being too terrified to utter a single noise as they quietly pulled their pistols to their chests. It was almost comedic, the way the two almost completely replicated each other’s motions, but any humor that had previously lingered within the garage had dispersed with the chills that racked through the spines of the Roth’s.

Sloane glanced at her father, parting her lips in order to quietly ask him what they should do, but her words were cut short when the dog launched himself from the garage, disregarding any caution or hesitation as his deafening barks instilled a sense of alarm within the daughter and father.

It was Nathan made the first move, creeping around the corner of the garage and glancing at his daughter, who had yet to budge from her previous position. His emerald eyes silently plead with her, begging her to follow him, as leaving Sloane to fend for herself was the last thing he wished to do. 

She had been somewhere else again, her gaze never wavering from the charred trees that occupied the far-away hills and the blazing sun as its rays mercilessly attacked the occupants below. A listless look subsided within her dulled eyes, and her arms hung limply at her hips as her father began to worry about his only daughter. 

However, as soon as the look had came, it had disappeared, and Sloane’s neck snapped to her father as she became conscious of her surroundings. She said nothing, simply pulling her pistol to her chest as she threw a curt nod to her father and joined him at the garage door.

She either didn’t notice the anxious look directed at her or she simply didn’t care.

Her practiced caution seemed to have been thrown to the wind as Sloane snapped around the garage corner, and Nathan watched in worried confusion as his daughter began to shoot at an unseen target.

Thought she refused to reveal it, pangs of shock washed through her each time a bullet was fired from the chamber, almost as if she was surprised that the weapon placed in her palms worked at all.

Nathan, following his daughter’s careless actions, removed himself from the garage corner, and his aimed his gun at what seemed to be a mutated naked mole rat. He fired shot after shot at the angered creatures, quickly growing accustomed to the recoil that resulted from the rapid shooting.

Though he had been discharged from the Army for 200 years, the abilities that he had acquired from countless hours of tedious training seemed to find their way back to him in the midst of combat.

It wasn’t long before the mole rats were eradicated, Nathan and Sloane’s bullets chewing through their hardened skins as if they were thin sheets of paper. All that remained after the battle were the bullet-riddled of the mutated creatures and the blood that painted the cement.

The dog returned to Sloane’s side at some point after, panting happily after he confirmed that there was no longer any immediate threat. He cocked his head at the father and daughter, almost as if he was asking where they were going next, before bringing a filthy paw to his snout and dragging his tongue across the fur.

“Let’s keep moving.” Sloane mumbled, eyeing her father before the two begin to advance down the road. The dog soon followed, trotting happily at Sloane’s side as his bark rang clearly across the Commonwealth.

Nathan and Sloane were astounded when they were able to pass through Concord so…easily. Each time they searched an abandoned building, they anxiously repaired themselves for an attack, and were stunned when the other thing that greeting them were bleached skeletons and unnerving silence. 

They opted to trek through the scorched grass when Nathan suggested it, acutely becoming aware of their slapping footsteps against the cracked cement that echoed for miles. Though the crunching of the dirt beneath their boots also seemed to scream their position to everyone who occupied the wasteland, it was much better than the deafening echoes of their steps.

Then the shouting began.

A mixture of agonized howls and eager hollers floated across the wind, becoming louder and louder as Nathan and Sloane cautiously advanced. Their movements were slow, calculated, and they breathed as shallowly as their lungs would allow. Crouched to the dirt below them, the Museum of Freedom soon became visible, and Sloane cursed silently as she watched the chaos that enfolded before them.

Crazed men and women were laughing manically as they attacked the building, tossing grenades and Molotov Cocktails at a man upon the balcony who was hopelessly trying to force them away. The man fired laser after laser as his musket desperately tried to keep up with the rate at which it was being fired, and the men and women beneath him spewed insults and taunts of death at him, and anger began to burn like a scorching fire beneath Sloane’s skin, and before she knew that she had moved, she had begun shooting.

Nobody was aware of what was occurring until three lurching bodies dropped to the cracked earth, gurgling and choking on the that filled their throats. When the men and women had finally realized they were being attacked, Sloane had already sprinted to cover and began to shoot one again.

Nathan hissed his daughter’s name, cursing at her dangerous stupidity before joining her in her abrupt assault, his heart hammering against his ribs and his brain throbbing in exhaustion. The bullets whizzing by his skull, the deafening crack of bullets leaving their chambers, and the pained outcries of the attackers all became static to him, simply background noise that was disregarded as he fought for his, and his daughter’s, lives.

With the aid of the dog, Sloane and Nathan were able to clear the immediate area of the hostile. The majority of them laid upon the road, dull, lifeless eyes staring at the blue sky as their skin grew cold. Few were able to escape from the attack, fleeing in opposite directions as they nursed their injuries.

“Hey, up here! On the balcony! I’ve got a group of settlers inside. The Raiders are almost through the door. Grab that last musket and help us! Please!” He was desperate, and it was evident. His voice cracked as he finished the sentence, as if the pressure of the situation had finally caught up to him, and his actions screamed exhaustion. He spared a lingering glance towards Sloane before turning and entering the building, the slam of the door behind him startling her as she turned to her father.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He questioned, frustration ebbing at his voice as his piercing irises stared through her. His eyes searched her, scouring for a valid answer, but his daughter simply smiled the dimpled smile that he adored.

“It’s still who we are.” The five words echoed through Nathan’s brain like a mantra, and he opened his mouth to speak, and he closed it again when he realized that he had no response. He repeated the action, hopelessly clinging to the words that he couldn't form.

Sloane’s grin widened, as if she knew what he was thinking. 

“C’mon. We’ve gotta help them.” And as soon as the smile appeared, it was gone, her lips instead thinning into a neutral line. The glimmer that had returned to her eyes disappeared once again, leaving a haunted vacancy behind.

A puff of irritation left Nathan at his daughter’s refusal to explain what she was thinking, but instead of scolding her, he simply grasped her hand in his own.

He knew his daughter. She would refuse to speak about her personal problems until it destroyed her.

Sloane rolled her aching shoulders before she slipped her hand from her father’s grip, approaching the door of the building and gesturing for her father to follow. The two were cautious when opening the door, but due to the squeak of the rust-covered hinges, the Raiders residing inside the building were immediately notified of their unannounced arrival.

Chaos ensued soon after. Bullets flew in each and every direction as Sloane and Nathan flung their bodies into cover behind varying statues and cases. Glass shattered and rained down upon them, while chips of rotting wood burst from the balcony when stray bullets pierced through the softening material.

Sloane grit her teeth as she peered around the corner of a now-shattered glass case, and she was just barely able to jerk her head back behind cover before a bullet was able to find solace in her skull. 

Her heart was pounding widely now, thumping against her ribs so hard, she thought that they might break, and the grip of her gun became difficult to hold as her palms grew clammy with pressure. 

‘Breathe’, she told herself, and she screwed her eyes shut as she thought about the pleading eyes of the man who had been on the balcony. Despite the despair that lingered within them, his eyes were wide. Alive. They were glossy with feeling, and emotion, and a message that only the living could convey.

She couldn't allow those glossy eyes to turn lifeless and dull, gazing at the crumbling ceiling above them without being given an opportunity of life. 

And so, with the image of the man’s dark, glossy eyes fervently finding its way to her mind, Sloane peeked around the corner once more, firing bullet after bullet into the chests of the Raiders.

Her father assisted her, successfully killing each attacker that she only managed to harm rather than lethally shoot, and the two’s combined effort was enough to rid the room of Raiders after several minutes of combat.

Instead of finding consolation in one another, as they often did after outcomes such as these, Nathan and Sloane simply nodded to each other in a way of ensuring that the other was alright before advancing through the building’s winding corridors and hallways. 

They no longer flinched when they were met with Raiders, and instead raised their weapons quicker than they did before swiftly and efficiently killing them. Despite the sharp and abrupt pang of guilt that stabbed at their heart each time a Raider succumbed to their death, they refused to acknowledge it, opting to shoot first and think later.

When they had reached the room that the settlers had barricaded themselves in, Sloane was quick to aim the barrel of her pistol at the two Raiders who were attempting to force the door open. After swiftly pulling the trigger, swiveling her aim, and then pulling the trigger once again, she inhaled deeply as the lifeless bodies collapsed to the wood beneath them. 

Lowering her gun to her hip, she glanced at her father before the two approached the door. She had just rose her bruised knuckles to rap them against the wooden door before it swung open, revealing the grateful face of the man who had pleaded with them upon the balcony.

And to Sloane’s concealed relief, his eyes were glossy.

“Man, I don’t know who you guys are, but your timing’s impeccable. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.” The exhaustion of a man who had the world resting on his shoulders still occupied the planes of his rugged face, but the hopelessness that was once evident at a single glance had now disappeared.

“We were happy to help. Just glad that you folks are still breathing.” Sloane grinned at the man, and she was pleasantly surprised when the man returned her gesture with a slight smile of his own. 

“My name’s Nathan, and this is my daughter, Sloane.” Nathan offered his hand forward, firmly shaking Preston’s hand when he placed it in his own. The two nodded to one another in greeting before retracting their hands, and Sloane gently nudged her father in confusion.

“Pops, weren’t the Minutemen…?” She refused to elaborate further, not yet sure if she could trust Preston and his companions with her and her father’s background. Her father said nothing, simply offering a subtle nod before redirecting his attention to Preston.

Questions were accumulating in his brain, and it was clear, for the bewildered look that they received told them so. However, the man didn't wish to overstep his boundaries, and he awkwardly cleared his throat before speaking again.

“‘Protect the people at a minute’s notice.’ That was the idea. So I joined up, wanted to make a difference. And I did, but... things fell apart. Now it looks like I’m the last Minuteman left standing.” It was difficult to comprehend the sheer amount of kindness this man seemed to possess, as common courtesy had died out along with everything that existed before the war. But here he was, an agonized man who only grew upset when he spoke about the demise of the group who wished to save the world. 

“Who are these people?” Sloane asked, gesturing to the other survivors who occupied the room. Though she tried to hide it, the constant pacing of a woman who was angrily grumbling to herself began to irritate Sloane, and the only thing that stopped her from snapping at the woman was the thought that she probably lost as much as Sloane did. Perhaps even more.

“Just folks lookin’ for a new home. A fresh start. I’ve been with ‘em since Quincy. Lexington looked good for a while, but the Ghouls drove us outta there. A month ago, there were twenty of us. Yesterday there were 8. Now, we’re 5. It’s just me, the Longs - Marcy and Jun - that’s old Mama Murphy on the couch. And this here is Sturges.”

“Hey.” Sturges drawled, turning for a brief moment and nodding at the Roth’s over his shoulder before facing the computer terminal in front of him.

“We’re sorry. Sounds rough.” And for the first time in months, Preston was grateful for the people who had stumbled upon his group, for the kindness that they displayed was a pleasure that he had not been granted for a long while.

“Thanks. It’s... good to meet someone who really cares. Anyway, we figured Concord would be a safe place to settle. Those Raiders proved us wrong, but... well, we do have one idea.”

“Will it be enough? To stop those... maniacs?” Nathan wished to help the desperate settlers, and though he knew that Sloane would do everything in her power to save their lives, his most important priority was his daughter’s safety. 

And if the idea that Preston mentioned jeopardized her protection, he wouldn’t be opposed to turning and walking the other way.

“Sturges? Tell ‘em.” 

“There’s a crashed vertibird up on the roof. Old school. Pre-war. You might’ve seen it. Well, looks like one of its passengers left a seriously sweet goodie. We’re talkin’ a full suit of cherry T-45 Power Armor. Military issue.” Sturges finally turned from the computer terminal, leaning against the wooden desk and crossing his toned arms across his chest. His cerulean eyes met Sloane’s as he spoke, and Sloane grew comfortably uneasy as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“I like it.” Sloane laughed, a sudden warmth spreading through her abdomen when Sturges chuckled at her response. 

“Yeah, I thought you might. Protection with an added bonus. Get the suit, you can rip the minigun right off the vertibird. Do that, and those Raiders get an express ticket to Hell. You dig?” Sturge’s gaze then flickered to Sloane’s father, and Nathan exhaled heavily before nodding. 

“Now, as for the armor, it’s out of juice. Probably has been for a hundred years. It can be powered up again, but we’re a bit stuck.” He anxiously rubbed at the nape of his neck, preparing himself for the inevitable questions that were soon to be thrown at him. 

“Tell us how we can help.” Her response stunned him, for it was said so nonchalantly, it was almost as if Sloane wasn’t aware that they were surrounded by lunatics who were hell-bent on killing her. 

“What you’ll need is a old, pre-war FC. A standardized fusion core. Your high-grade, long-term, nuclear battery used by the military and some companies way back when. And we know right where to find one.” Sloane nodded her head along with Preston’s words, memories of her grandfather’s lessons of militarized weapons and supplies finding their way back to her brain. She could quite distinctly remember her grandfather’s tellings of a fusion core, as he had several stashed in the drawer that sat beside his bed.

“Just in case,” he always told her.

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.” Sloane said, and though she meant it in a humorous way, dread replaced the hilarity that she had tried to convey. 

“We can’t get to the damn thing. It’s down in the basement. Locked behind a security gate. Look, I fix stuff. I tinker. Bypassing security ain't exactly my forte. The two of you could give it a shot.” Sturges’ gaze shifted from Nathan to Sloane, unconsciously trying to determine who would excel at entering places where they weren’t welcome, but his thoughts were interrupted by Nathan’s sudden offer.

“Alright, I’ll head down there.” He announced, pulling his bloodied pistol from its holster and flicking the saftey off.

“Want me to head down there with you?” Sloane asked, though she seemed to assume that he would accept her offer, as she had already began to advance towards the door. 

“No, I want you to stay here. Look around for any useful supplies.” Her eyes widened at her father’s bewildering refusal, but before she was able to question his reasonings, he was gone, his footsteps echoing off the paper-thin walls of the museum as he left. 

Sloane couldn’t exactly remember the last time her father didn't wish to be by her side. “Daddy’s girl,” her mother always said, followed by a giggle when Nathan tried, and failed, to decline the truthful claim. He was, quite simply, tied around her finger, and had been ever since she was born. Each day he had been in the Army, his heart ached to return to his family, to watch over Sloane as she grew up and to protect her when it was required. And after the accident happened, despite Sloane knowing that he didn't mean to hurt her, he never truly forgave himself, guilt consuming him each time he saw the scar that blemished her face. That accident only seemed to bring them closer, and in the time that she was away from college, the two were rarely seen without one another.

She was hurt when her father slammed the door behind him, to say the least. 

“I’m sure he has his reasons.” Preston offered, clasping a war-ruined hand on her feeble shoulder when she turned to face him. She noticed the darkened circles underneath his eyes, and she noticed the lines that creased his forehead, and she found herself wondering how old the man who stood before her was, and before she could stop herself, Sloane had already asked the question.

“How old are you?” She blurted out, becoming horrified with herself as she hurriedly began to apologize to Preston, that he obviously didn't need to tell her anything he didn't wish to share, and she damned her inability to keep her lips sealed when nothing should be said.

But Preston just laughed at her.

“I’m 26.” He confessed, amusement bubbling up in his throat when Sloane’s eyebrows rose in shock. Sturges chuckled before returning to his terminal, his calloused fingers becoming a confusing blur as he clicked away at the keyboard.

“Oh.”

And as Sloane wandered away to a nearby shelf, nimble fingers dragging across the spines of ancient books, Preston’s eyes couldn’t help but follow. 

Her skin was unblemished, save for the jagged scar that marred her facial features. It was almost milky in texture, pale and smooth with no indication of a single imperfection. There were no hardened lines or filthy pores that stood out, no indicators that she had succumbed to the harsh and violent environment of the Wasteland. 

Her hair glowed with a shine that shouldn’t have existed, not a single drop of blood or grain of dirt matting the fine follicles. It wasn’t stringy or straggly, but instead tumbled to her shoulders in soft waves. While most female Wastelanders cropped their hair as short as possible in a means of survival, Sloane’s wasn’t even tied back in a feeble attempt to ensure it wasn’t jeopardizing her safety.

And the thing that stunned him the most was the soft curves of her body. The blue suit that clung to her snugly didn’t exactly conceal her wide hips or large breasts, and it was typical of every Wastelander to have flat everything, whether they were female or male or anything of the like. Though here she was, the soft fabric of her clothing hugging each angular curve that existed.

Preston suspected it had something to do with the prominent “111” that was stitched into the suit.

“So, Vault 111, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard of that one.” Preston’s voice shattered the almost-silence, and Sloane very-nearly drew her pistol, a reflex that she had acquired in the few hours that she had been in the Wasteland.

She stopped herself when she spun upon her heel and met the compassionate and understanding eyes of Preston Garvey.

“It’s not too far from here. Maybe a couple of miles away.” And that’s all she said, offering a polite smile before returning to the pre-war books that occupied the shelf.

The corner of Preston’s lip flickered down as he glanced over his shoulder at Sturges, facing Sloane once again when he was met with nothing but a shrug from the mechanic.

“Heard they did some pretty messed up shit in those Vaults. That true?” The question had no hidden intentions, a simple curiousity that Preston wished to be sated, but the tension that gripped at Sloane’s shoulders hinted at her obvious discomfort. Even the atmosphere of the room shifted, transitioning from a hopeful aura to an apprenshive one that instilled an uneasiness in each survivor. 

“Yeah.” Sloane breathed out, opting to face the wooden shelf instead of addressing Preston directly. She could hear the creak of the floorboards beneath them as Sturges moved away from his terminal and stood at Preston’s side, and she visualized the questioning glance the two shared. 

“What’d they do in yours?” In the moments prior, Sloane was preparing herself, desperately clawing at any practical story that Preston and Sturges would accept, but all of her attempts had been in vain. And when the inevitable question was asked, Sloane couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that rang out.

Silence was her only response.

“Preston, leave the girl alone. She’s gone through too much for you to be hassling her for her backstory.” A raspy voice chided, and it was spoke at such a sluggish pace, Sloane worried for the health of the elderly woman who sat upon the couch.

“Of course, I...I’m sorry.” Preston’s head bowed slightly in apology, and he even seemed to shock himself that he would overstep a such a personal boundary. If it were him in that position, he would react similarly, the wounds that came with his tragic past reopening and revealing the pain that he refused to show.

And so, when Sloane inhaled shakily and told Preston that he was okay, that he couldn’t have known, he seized in his questioning, deciding that the conversation could be delayed for another day.

The silence that followed was disarming, creating an uneasy tension that you could practically see, but the hush was disrupted by the polite conversation that Sloane began with both Preston and Sturges. While questions were asked, the tender topic that was Sloane’s past was avoided completely, Preston and Sturges ensuring to be cautious when learning more about her.

Sloane’s boisterous laughter was soon echoing off the walls, the girl choking over her words as she tried to ask how Preston managed to find himself in the middle of a bar fight with a potted plant, but she was interrupted by the slam of the door as it flung open.

And in walked her father, blood splattered across his jaw and his jacket in tatters, but alive.

“Got the fusion core.” He announced, a solemness splayed across his face and a rage boiling within his eyes, but he presented the battery to Preston anyways. 

Flames licked at his irises, further accentuating the vivid green, and fury radiated from his body. It wasn't simple frustration that he emitted, and it wasn’t just the beginning stages of a controllable anger. It was pure and insatiable wrath, something that couldn’t be satisfied until whatever, or whoever, had caused it was eradicated.

She ached to see her father in the state that he was in, practically quaking with anger, but before she was even able to ask what had happened, what had gone wrong, Preston’s gleeful voice rang out.

“Great. The vertibird is on the roof. Head up there and rip that minigun right off of it. I’ll cover you from the balcony.” And with an understanding nod, Nathan advanced towards the door, ignoring his daughter’s angered calls of his name.

He was turning the rusting doorknob when a petite hand clamped over his own, seizing his movements.

“I'm coming with.” She angrily whispered to him, struggling to maintain her cool temperament as she gripped at her father’s fist. After all that they had suffered through, the fear and trauma that they had experienced, Sloane refused to allow her father to isolate himself.

“No, Sloane, it’s too-“ 

“I don’t know what the fuck happened for you to just start pushing me away, but I'm not letting you do this. The two of us? We’re a team. And it’s staying like that, alright?” And she tried to will them away, but the frustrated tears that began pooling within her eyes only betrayed the vulnerability that grasped her in that moment.

It was something she had always despised; the tears that would steadily trickle down her flushed cheeks whenever she grew irritated. Often, people mistook her anger for weakness, for it never failed that her rage would lead to inevitable sobs and shakes. 

She got it from her mother, her father always told her.

The room was still. Hushed. Nobody dared to move, nobody dared to speak, and nobody dared to breathe within the tense atmosphere that had been created. Even Preston, who had always searched for a way to diffuse an uncomfortable situation, was silent, his dark eyes glued to people who stood before him.

And then Nathan’s shoulders dropped, and the grip that he held on the doorknob dropped, and it seemed that the facade that surrounded him dropped, for a heavy sigh rang out as he loosely entangled his fingers with his daughter’s.

Silence.

“...Okay.” He whispered, and it was so inaudible, both Sturges and Preston feared that Sloane hadn’t been able to hear what her father had confessed.

But she did. She always did.

Relief replaced the thick tension that lingered within the stale air, crawling down the spines of every person who cared enough to care. Sloane herself, however, refused to relax, even if it was for just a moment. Her shoulders still remained tense, the muscles within taut with pressure and fear.

“Hopefully, we’ll be back soon. Try not to get yourselves killed up here.” Though she tried, Sloane’s humor fell short, so short that even Jun, who had been cradling himself in a darkened corner of the room, seized in his rocking. And despite the failed comical effect, she still grinned at Preston and Sturges, a grin so unblemished and perfect and just her, the two men found themselves smiling back.

And they weren't religious men, because what kind of God would allow the world to crumble within itself, but the very moment that the slam of the door behind them announced their departure, they began to pray for the safety of the enigmatic surviviors that saved their lives.


End file.
